


heart in his hands

by deluxemycroft



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blood As Lube, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Cannibalism, Dark Clint Barton, Dark Loki (Marvel), Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Deaf Clint Barton, Dubious Consent, Genital Torture, M/M, Masochism, Mutilation, Painful Sex, Past Mind Control, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Avengers (2012), Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Sadism, Torture, Torture Porn, Unsafe Sex, a lot of blood, general nastiness, heart-touching, is it technically cannibalism if they're different species, just porn, kind of maybe vaguely implied sam/steve, nastiness for the sake of nastiness, poor surgical practices, unsafe surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 00:51:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20398972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deluxemycroft/pseuds/deluxemycroft
Summary: Loki escapes from Asgard, and two weeks later, Clint finds him huddled in his bathtub. Clint decides to take his revenge and Loki decides to like it.





	heart in his hands

**Author's Note:**

> not beta'd! i read it through and will probably come back to edit it later. please read the warnings before you read it, it's pretty dark and very nasty. i'd apologize but i don't feel bad! good luck, hope you like it
> 
> yes i changed the title...i came up with a better one...
> 
> edited 8/27/19

Clint had been in a coma for three days when his phone started going off. There wasn’t a name attached to any of the texts, just a snake emoji, and his phone was locked so they couldn’t read any of the texts. Tony was trying to hack into his phone, but Clint had pointedly not bought a Starkphone just so Tony couldn’t look into his life. Even Natasha didn’t know who it was. 

“Whoever it is,” Steve argued two days after the texts started coming in, “they clearly care about him. 15 texts in two days? They have to be worried.”

“If they’re worried, they should call,” Tony shot back. “Then we could talk to them.”

Natasha shook her head. They were sitting in the kitchen in the common area, watching Bruce putter around and make breakfast for all of them. “Whoever it is, Clint will have told them not to call.” She didn’t know who it was, but she knew that much. 

Thor and Bucky came in a few minutes later, Thor steering Bucky into a chair and bringing him a cup of coffee after greeting everyone joyfully. “Still no news on the Hawk?”

Thor’s face fell at everyone shaking their heads. He slid into the seat next to Bucky and frowned at all of them. “I can bring a healer from Asgard,” he offered up. “Or see if I have any healing potions.”

Steve nodded after sharing a glance with Tony and Nat. “Yeah,” he sighed. “We’ve tried everything else.”

Down a few levels on the floor Tony had turned into a small hospital wing, a tall, thin figure appeared out of a small green puff of magic. He stepped up next to the bed and leaned over the occupant, brushing the tips of his long fingers over Clint’s sleeping face. When the archer didn’t move, the figure frowned and plucked a bag out of thin air, digging through it to pull out a small jar. He unscrewed the lid and dipped a finger in to pull out a fingertip full of bright blue potion, which he then slid inside Clint’s mouth and rubbed over his gums and tongue. It took a few moments for the potion to sink in and disappear, leaving behind a few bits of blue glitter.

Then the figure moved over to the phone on Clint’s bedside table, picking it up and it scanned his face, unlocking a moment later. The figure removed all of the notifications and then after a moment of deliberation, changed the passcode to something even more difficult to guess. He rubbed the phone over his shirt to remove fingerprints from the glass and then locked it, setting it back down on the small table. He turned back to Clint and gently pet his fingers over Clint’s messy hair.

Clint sighed and seemed to relax deeper into the bed, but still did not wake. The figure frowned and disappeared at the sound of voices coming down the hall.

* * *

“Eir is the royal healer,” Thor explained, leading the austere Aesir and the Avengers down the hall to Clint’s room. It had taken him two days in Asgard to convince Eir to come to Earth, and she still looked a bit unhappy about the whole thing. Thor smiled at her. “She has healed me from many injuries over the centuries.”

Bucky snorted but didn’t comment. Thor beamed at him.

Clint’s doctor, Dr. Hillock, met them outside his room, greeting Eir with an outstretched hand. She frowned at him and did not shake it.

Hillock cleared his throat and looked down at his clipboard. “Barton has been in a coma for five days, we have—”

“Pardon me,” Eir interrupted. “I would prefer to examine the patient before you give me this information.” She swept past Hillock and shut the door behind her. Everyone turned to look at Thor, who gave them all a sheepish grin. Hillock rolled his eyes at all of them and left.

“Eir knows what she’s doing,” Thor assured them, and then when none of them said anything, his smile brightened and he asked, “Would you enjoy a tale of her healing prowess?”

As expected, everyone nodded. Tony and Steve leaned against the wall across from him, Sam standing next to Steve, Nat next to him, and Bucky stayed next to Thor. 

“When I was young, perhaps 600, my father called for my brother and I to go with him to Vanaheim. Vanir are similar to what your people call elves; very haughty, for one, and very sure of themselves. Loki did not get along with any of them.” Thor laughed while the rest of the Avengers exchanged uncomfortable glances. “I often wonder if my brother is half-Vanir himself. Regardless, he antagonized one of their sorcerers to the point where he became embroiled in a battle that lasted for many days. I attempted to intercede in the battle, of course, and the Vanir sorcerer turned on me and sent a spell that—”

“I believe it nearly severed you in half,” Eir interrupted from behind him from the open door to Clint’s room. Thor nodded eagerly in agreement. “If I could heal that, I can heal this human.” She waved at Thor, gesturing him into the room with her. 

“What happened to the sorcerer?” Tony asked as they all crammed themselves in Clint’s room.

Thor shrugged one massive shoulder. “As far as I remember, Loki slaughtered him.”

“Rightly so,” Eir said stiffly, waving a large bundle of gold over Clint’s form. “I recall you saying that only Midgardian healers have touched this man.”

“Yeah,” Steve said slowly. “We only have Earth doctors. Thor said he didn’t have any potions.”

Thor nodded in agreement and all of the various Avengers exchanged confused glances as Eir spent a few quiet minutes swirling gold magic over Clint’s form.

“Asgardian magic has touched this man,” she finally declared. “And very recently. He should wake up within the week.” Eir frowned and opened the bag she had around her waist, pulling out a small vial and putting it on the table next to Clint’s bed. “Give him two drops orally three times per day. How many hours are in your days?”

“24,” Steve offered up.

Eir nodded. “Then every eight hours, two drops of potion.” She closed the bag and looked at Thor with an unamused look. “Do you have any other wounded I must see? Or may I return to my duties upon Asgard?”

Thor sighed and led her out of the room.

Everyone stepped up around Clint’s bed and looked down at him.

“That was weird, right?” Tony asked after an awkward silence. “That was really weird.”

Bucky sighed. “That was weird,” he affirmed.

Nat patted the back of Clint’s hand and looked down at him with a troubled gaze. “Just as long as he’s fine,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “That’s all that matters.”

They all filed out a few minutes later, leaving the door open. A shadow detached from the corner and picked up the vial Eir left on the table, giving it a faintly disgusted look. He vanished the vial and replaced it with a nearly identical one. He brushed his fingers over the back of Clint’s hand and then disappeared back into the shadows.

Awhile later, Thor and Bucky came back into Clint’s room. Thor picked up the vial and froze as he felt the familiar magic covering it, looking down at it with wide eyes.

“Loki?”

* * *

* * *

Clint Barton jerked awake as his bed vibrated underneath him. He smacked the alarm on the bedside table and his bed stopped shaking. He sat up, panting, and found his phone on the floor, the screen flashing with an Avengers alert. Urgent but not an emergency, which meant he had time to either shower or get breakfast.

He sniffed at his armpit. Definitely shower. Tony would have a buffet or some food delivered in anyway. Clint got out of bed, remembered he’d put his phone charger in the living room, and wrapped his blankets around him as he dragged himself into the living room. He dropped onto the couch and found his charger and plugged his phone in.

Then he stared at the ceiling for awhile, fighting the urge not to go back to sleep. The meeting couldn’t be _that_ important. 

He groaned when his phone vibrated again and he looked down to see a text from Cap. He unlocked his phone to read it.

_Meeting starts at 9._

An hour. A whole entire hour to shower and get over to Avengers Tower.

He spent ten minutes deliberating how much easier his life would be if he just moved into the tower before he managed to drag himself into the bathroom and turn on the shower without looking, throwing his blankets on the bed as he rooted around the dirty clothes on his floor for a towel. He found one and dropped his underwear into the pile, then managed to make his way back into the bathroom.

Clint yanked the shower curtain open and froze.

There was a body in the bathtub.

Huh.

Well then.

He turned off the water and looked around for something to poke the body with. Why didn’t he have a bathroom stick? He needed a bathroom stick.

Clint found an arrow on top of the toilet, and used that to poke the body. The body moved, which, thank god, it was a person and not a dead guy. He could just see the article headlines—_Body found in Avengers apartment! _Or_ Hawkeye had a dead guy in his apartment for probably a few days and didn’t notice because he hadn’t taken a shower!_—and none of that really boded well for him.

The body moved again and Clint sighed, leaving the bathroom to find his hearing aids. They were on his bedside table, thankfully, and he decided against putting any clothes on. If someone wanted to break into his apartment and pass out in his bathtub then they could deal with seeing his dick. He slid his aids in and turned them on, then bent over to pick up a bow and a few arrows from the floor. The world around him came alive in a cacophony of sound. 

“What planet is this?” came a raspy but deeply familiar voice from the bathroom. Clint froze, squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and then straightened up all the way.

To his surprise, his hands weren’t shaking. His heart did not pound. His mind was clear.

He turned back to the bathroom and fired an arrow in through the open door. There was a small sound of surprise and then Clint stalked in to see Loki, sitting in his bathtub, drenched and in disgusting clothes, with an arrow still vibrating right above his head.

Bleary green eyes turned to him, glanced over him, and Loki sighed, leaned his head against the side of the tub, and took one last look around before closing his eyes. “So the tale of Loki ends,” Loki rasped out, “in a dirty bathtub on Midgard.”

Clint considered that and after a moment, he lowered his bow. “No,” he said. “You don’t die like this.” He moved back into his living room and threw his bow and arrows onto the couch, then grabbed a knife from the kitchen. He went back into the bathroom and held the knife to Loki’s neck. Green eyes slit open and looked at him. His hands were shaking. He took in a deep breath, which didn’t help. “I’m going to split you open and unmake you the same way you unmade me.”

Loki regarded him and his cracked, bleeding lips curled upwards. “Is that so,” he murmured. “Well, then, get on with it.”

In the living room, Clint’s phone chimed.

He snarled and dug the tip of the knife into Loki’s neck, bringing up a bead of blood. It slid down the knife and Clint watched it, feeling greedy for more.

“Get out of the tub,” he demanded, pulling the knife away from Loki’s neck before he could well and truly kill him. Loki managed to drag his torso out of the tub and then laid on the floor, white-faced and panting, and Clint wrapped his hands in the god’s hair and dragged him the rest of the way. He deliberated for a moment and then laid one of Loki’s hands out flat on the floor. Loki gave him an amused look.

Clint hefted the knife in his hand, made sure he had a firm grip, and stabbed it right through Loki’s hand, pinning it to the floor. Loki let out a sound like he’d been punched in the chest. Clint stepped over him and turned on the shower again.

“Don’t fucking go anywhere,” Clint ordered, put his hearing aids on the counter next to the sink, and stepped into the shower, yanking the shower curtain shut behind him.

The water was hot but he shivered underneath it. Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck._

Fuck.

What the _fuck._

He washed his hair and ran soap over his pits and groin and then stood in the shower, trying to see through the purple shower curtain if Loki had moved and was going to kill him. Good way for him to go out, killed by the god that had brainwashed him while he was trying to take over the planet. Except Loki hadn’t killed him then. He’d come back and killed Clint in the shower. Well, it would track with the rest of Clint’s life.

He rinsed his hair again and then turned off the water, peeking around the curtain to see Loki up on his knees, torso still on the floor, face next to the knife pinning his hand down. His face was completely white except for two high spots of color on his cheeks, and his mouth was open, his eyes wide.

Clint pushed open the shower curtain and didn’t bother looking for his towel, instead getting out of the tub and glaring at Loki. He picked up the grimy washcloth he had next to the sink and dried out his ears before scrubbing the cloth through his hair and then sliding his aids back in. He walked back into his bedroom, intentionally bumping the knife with his foot, and looked for clothes that were more clean than dirty. Loki moaned and crumpled back down to the floor.

He found a pair of handcuffs in the bedside table, tried to remember how they’d gotten there and who he’d used them with, and threw them on the bed. He pulled on a pair of boxer briefs and a worn grey t-shirt, then picked up the handcuffs again and went back to the bathroom. He used the toilet after kicking Loki in the side, and then yanked the knife out of Loki’s hand, relishing in the grunt of pain Loki gave out. 

“Get up,” he ordered, and slid his hand into Loki’s hair, yanking him over to the toilet. “I don’t know why you’re not fighting, but if you’re staying, I’m not letting you run.” He wrapped Loki’s arms around the toilet and handcuffed his hands together around the back of it.

“I’m going to bleed out,” Loki informed him, resting his chin on the rim of the bowl, casting Clint a faintly amused look.

“Good,” Clint told him, and went over to the sink to brush his teeth. He spit in the sink, rinsed his mouth out, and found a half-empty sleeve of small plastic cups in the cabinet under the sink. He filled one up and held it out to Loki, who slid his gaze between the cup and Clint’s face, and then slowly opened his mouth.

Clint poured half the cup in his mouth and then the second half over the rest of Loki’s face and dropped the cup on the floor. He turned off the lights and slammed the bathroom door behind himself.

He overheard a small sound from the bathroom as he was pulling socks and jeans on, but he ignored it. Whatever it was, he’d deal with it after the meeting. Clint slid his feet into his purple sneakers and shut the bedroom door, grabbing his phone and wallet and leaving the apartment. He checked his phone and cleared the reminder for the Avengers meeting.

Huh. He’d probably still even be on time.

Clint whistled as he left the building and hailed a taxi.

* * *

Tony had ordered food from Clint’s favorite breakfast joint, a tiny little hole-in-the-wall that was only a couple blocks away from his apartment, which was suspicious of him, but maybe Tony was just in a good mood. Clint got himself a coffee, finished it, got another coffee, and loaded up a plate with hash browns and cheesy eggs and a bunch of bacon and sausage. He found a spot at the conference table and waved at Steve and Sam when they came in together, followed by Bucky and Nat, who still looked like they could barely tolerate each other. He called out a hello through a mouth full of food, and got a shake of the head from Steve and a glare from Nat. Better than usual, actually.

“You need any more coffee, Barton?” Sam asked, bringing over the carafe. Clint shrugged and held up his cup. Sam filled it and then brought over a plate of hash browns.

Clint swallowed his mouthful of food and frowned at all of them. “What the hell’s going on here?”

Nat just shook her head and brought over her plate of dry toast and a single piece of bacon. She sat next to him and told him, “He’ll be here soon.”

_He_, apparently, was Thor, followed by Tony and Bruce, and all three of them looked troubled, Thor most of all.

Clint thought about Loki handcuffed in his bathroom and he bet he could figure out what the meeting was about.

Thor sighed at all of them and stood at the head of the table. “I regret to inform you, my friends, that Loki has escaped.”

Look at that. He was right.

Going by the lack of reaction from everyone else in the room, Clint was the last to know. He really needed to move into the Tower like everyone else. He rubbed at his forehead and sighed and picked at his food. “What happened?”

“Two weeks ago, Einherjar found his cell empty.”

“Hold on, this happened two weeks ago?” Tony interrupted. “You made it sound like he’d run off _yesterday_.”

Thor shook his head. “No,” he replied regretfully. “I was only given knowledge of this a few days ago. My father did not wish for me to know, and my mother went against his wishes to alert me.”

“Why wouldn’t he want you to know?” Sam asked with a frown.

“Because he knows my affection for Loki often overrides my anger towards him,” Thor said unabashedly. “Odin knows that if I go looking for him, I will be easily convinced to let him go.”

“It wouldn’t be smarter to warn you?” Steve asked.

Thor shrugged, looking unbothered. “Odin enjoys his secrets,” he said simply. “But I know now, as do you. I merely wished to warn you.” His blue eyes slid around the room to pin Clint to his seat. “Hawk, I must...I believe Loki may come after you. You are the only tie he has to Midgard, and he has unfinished business with you.”

Clint nodded. “What’s he on the run from?” he asked, taking a bite of eggs on toast. He could feet Nat’s gaze boring into the side of his face, but didn’t turn to look at her. “Why’d he escape?”

“Because he was in prison?” Tony offered up. “Everyone tries to escape from prison.”

“I was in his head for a week,” Clint replied, picking apart a piece of bacon. “He was safe there. He’d only run if someone was coming after him.” He looked back to Thor, who looked startled. “So, what’s he running from?”

“A monster,” Thor said softly. “A great beast. A nightmare. He calls himself Thanos.” He came around the table to stare down at Clint, massive arms crossed over his chest. Clint slanted him an unimpressed look and sipped at his coffee.

Clint nodded. “Makes sense.” He looked at everyone and then turned his attention to Steve. “Was this really the reason you had to wake me up early? Couldn’t have sent a text or anything?”

Steve rolled his eyes.

Clint gathered up another plate of food and refilled his coffee and left, ignoring the muttered comments about how they thought he was gonna react a lot differently, and hit the button for the elevator.

“Down to the lobby, Agent Barton?” JARVIS asked as he stepped into the elevator.

Mouth full of food, Clint nodded. 

He made his way back to his apartment, finishing the food and coffee along the way, tossing the paper plate and cup into a garbage can, wiping his hands on his shirt and pulling out his phone. A text from Cap and a text from Nat, both of them concerned about him.

Well, he was busy. Stuff to do, god to torture, the usual deal.

He let himself back into his apartment, whistling again, to see Loki curled up on his couch, passed out. Clint locked the door behind him and picked up an arrow, poking Loki in the cheek.

“Thor knows you escaped,” Clint told him after green eyes slowly blinked open, Loki stiffening immediately at seeing him. “You want him to know where you are?”

“I would prefer not,” Loki said slowly, keeping his eyes locked on the arrow as he slowly sat up. He still looked disheveled and wearing disgusting clothes and his hair was all over the place, greasier and nastier than ever. Maybe Clint should’ve let him stay in the shower longer. “Are you still planning on killing me, Agent Barton?”

Clint poked him in the cheek with the arrow, hard enough to bring up blood. “Probably,” Clint admitted with a careless shrug. “I’m thinking you’d be a lot more helpful alive than dead, but I also really want to kill you.” Loki gave him an amused look. “As far as I can tell, I’m the only one who knows where you are, which means no one will miss you when you’re gone. Maybe I’ll give Thor your body when I’m done.”

Loki leaned against the back of the couch, crossed his legs, clasped his hands over his knee, the slowly-healing wound in his hand breaking open and blood dribbling out. “How will you do it? Cut my throat? Watch me bleed out on your floor? Cut me open?”

Clint smiled at that one. “I like that,” he admitted. “Let’s see what makes you _tick_.”

Loki smiled at him, his teeth a bit too sharp, the smile a bit too mean. “What makes you believe I’ll let you do anything to me?”

“I was gone for two hours,” Clint said with a shrug, moving closer to the couch, digging the arrow tip deeper into Loki’s cheek, blood welling up and dripping down the god’s cheek. “You easily got out of the handcuffs. You could’ve run the second I left. Instead, you stayed. Which means you’re more scared of Thor and whoever this Thanos guy is than you are of me.”

Loki’s mouth thinned.

“I also think you feel like pain is the only way to get someone to forgive you,” Clint continued, smirking when Loki blinked a few times. “I think that’s bullshit. I’m never going to forgive you. But I can make myself feel a little bit better. So, take off your clothes.”

Clint left him to it and kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks and went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Loki didn’t move for a very tense few minutes, and then Clint turned his head to see him slowly and carefully removing his worn coat and his disgusting shirt. He laid them both over the arm of the couch and then bent down to pull off his boots.

“That’s enough,” Clint told him, coming back into the living room and handing Loki the glass of water once his boots were off. “There’s not anything in it. I don’t want you missing a second of what I’m going to do to you.”

Loki took the glass and looked up at him, green eyes searching for something in Clint’s face. Whatever he saw, it spurred him to drink the water and leave the glass on the living room table, swallowing slowly and then looking up at Clint. “Where would you have me?” Loki asked, the rasp finally out of his voice, leaving it deep and mellow like every single one of Clint’s nightmares. 

Clint motioned to the floor. “Lay down,” he said. “On your back.”

Loki gave him a slow look but then obliged, spreading his arms out to the sides. Clint picked up his bow and a few arrows and stood over him.

“Ask me to,” Clint demanded of him. “You _unmade_ me.” The word _Sir_ welled up in his mouth but he bit it off. “You deserve this.”

Green eyes met his, wide and wet. “Then hurt me,” Loki whispered.

Clint nocked an arrow and let loose, pinning Loki’s hand to the floor. He did the same with Loki’s other hand, each arrow gifting him with a pained grunt, and then Clint went into the kitchen to start the coffee maker and try to get his hands to stop shaking.

He had a gut hook knife in one of his drawers, and he found it and tossed it up into the air a few times. “I think I know what I want to do to you,” he said aloud, and Loki let out a bit of a whine, barely audible. “I think I want to hold your heart in my hands.”

“Is that so?” Loki asked on a gasp, moving a bit on the floor. “Then what will you do with me?”

Clint shrugged, tossed the knife into the air and caught it again. The coffee maker finished with a beep and Clint poured himself a cup before walking back to stand over Loki. “Is your heart in the same place as mine?”

Loki glared at him and Clint grinned to finally see some fight in him. “I would not know,” Loki spat out, but then he calmed a moment later, dropping his head back to the floor and staring up at the ceiling. “I have never performed any surgery of this type on a human.”

“Of this type?”

“Of any type.”

Clint swallowed down half the cup and sat on the floor, resting the cup next to Loki’s head. “This is probably going to hurt,” he warned, and stabbed the knife into Loki’s stomach. Loki gasped and his hips twisted and tears spilled out of his eyes and warm blood bubbled up over Clint’s hands. He dug the knife in and Loki grunted and gasped and his feet tapped out a pained stattacco on the floor and Clint patted him consolingly on the thigh. Somehow, that calmed Loki down and he went still, eyes still locked on the ceiling, taking in shallow, rapid breaths, shaking lightly.

Clint caught the hook of the knife under Loki’s skin and pulled, ripping open a hole in Loki’s side. Loki whined and when Clint looked at his face, all the blood had rushed out of his skin and was warm and staining Clint’s hands. He reached in and pulled apart the two pieces of Loki’s skin, leaning closer to peer inside him. It was all blood and viscera and Clint stabbed his knife into it, sliding his knife up to slice more skin up towards his chest, creating enough of a hole that Clint could sink his entire hand and forearm inside.

Loki grunted. Clint gave him a smile that was more like a grimace. “This is how it felt,” Clint told him with a hiss, “every single second you were in my head. Like your fingers were in my brain.” He moved his hand up and bumped up against something that felt like a lung and he waited until Loki’s frantic, wide green eyes fell to his face before digging his fingers in.

Loki whimpered. “Stop,” he begged, his voice barely more than a breath. “Please stop.”

Clint blinked a few times and looked down at what he was doing, wrist-deep in Loki’s insides, and grimaced. There was blood all over Clint’s pants and staining his shirt and spilling over onto the floor and if he didn’t clean it up soon, it’d stain. Loki was sheet-white. Clint pulled his hands out and wiped his hands off on Loki’s pants.

“How long will it take you to heal?” Clint asked, leaning over to yank the arrows out of Loki’s hands.

Loki cradled his hands to his stomach, holding in his intestines, screwing his face up in a pained grimace, letting out small whimpers every few seconds. Clint picked up his knife off the floor and pushed to his feet.

“Perhaps a week,” Loki murmured, just loud enough for Clint to hear.

He nodded to himself, rinsing his knife and arms off in the kitchen sink, pulling off his shirt and pants, running cold water over them. “Good,” he said. “Get up and go get back in the tub. I have to clean up the floor.”

Loki whimpered but managed to push to his knees and make it a few steps before crumpling back down to the floor. Clint rolled his eyes and went back over to him and slid his arm around Loki’s waist and helped Loki out of the blood puddle at least, and got a few towels to start soaking up the blood. He got a damp washcloth and wiped the blood off Loki’s torso and then held it to the gaping wound in his gut.

Clint got a few cleaners and went to work on the stain on the floor. Once he was done and it was cleaned up, he put everything into a laundry bag and threw it towards the front door. He’d wash it later. Clint picked up his cup of coffee off the floor and glanced in it to see a bit of Loki’s blood had mixed with the coffee. He shrugged and sipped at it as he dropped to the couch and turned on the TV.

Awhile later, he looked over to see Loki curled up on the floor, completely passed out. Clint grimaced and felt a little bad, so he got up and laid Loki’s coat over him.

A green eye flickered open and Loki watched him go back to the couch, this time sipping on a beer. How very interesting.

* * *

It took Loki longer than a week to heal, of course. He explained it away by spinning a small tale about how he’d built up a low reserve of seidr—which had Clint asking ‘what the hell is say-derr’, which had led to Loki giving an impromptu lecture on the difference between seidr and magic, which had actually been more interesting than Clint wanted to admit—and hadn’t eaten since he’d escaped, and Clint hadn’t put in the energy to believe or disbelieve him. He’d entertained himself by pulling off Loki’s fingernails and putting holes in his ears and in the tender skin in between his toes, but it was kind of getting boring. 

He wanted to hear Loki scream. He hadn’t gotten anything more than high-pitched whines, which had actually—well, Clint had liked those. A lot. Loki had noticed, of course, and Clint had had to abandon pulling off his fingernails because Loki would make _that sound_ whenever he slid his needle-nose pliers under a nail and pulled. 

But Clint wanted a scream. He wanted Loki to shriek and cry out until he lost his voice. Of course, Loki could tell, and was doing his damnedest to not give Clint what he wanted. 

He was watching a video on cardiac massage on his phone, volume turned all the way up so Loki could hear the sounds from the living room. Clint was leaning on the counter in his kitchen, waiting for the oven to finish heating so he could cook a pizza. Loki hated pizza, so Clint had been cooking it or ordering it every night. 

“What will you do with me once you are done?” Loki asked. Clint looked up to see him leaning on the island, still pale-faced with his scars barely healing over on his stomach, a lurid red against the white of his skin. His eyes were sharper and they were intent on the phone in Clint’s hands. 

Clint shrugged one shoulder, turning his attention back to the video. “Whatever I want, probably,” he replied. He glanced back at Loki out of the corner of his eye. “You can still leave, you know.”

“I placed wards upon this building,” Loki said stiffly, and Clint rolled his eyes. No wonder he hadn’t healed yet. “As long as I stay within these walls, I cannot be found.”

“There’s empty apartments,” Clint shrugged, and when he looked up to see Loki’s reaction, the god was sitting back down on the couch, face pointedly turned away from him. He considered the cost of getting another bed and figured he could justify it. Or they could just share. 

He thought about seeing Loki’s pale skin against his purple sheets, the spread of his hair over Clint’s pillow, and he shuddered. No, two beds was a good idea. 

The oven dinged. 

“Pepperoni or meat lovers?” Clint called, abandoning his phone to open the freezer. 

“Meat,” Loki said back, just loud enough for Clint to hear. He pulled out a meat lovers pizza and threw the cardboard and plastic to the counter and threw the pizza into the oven. He set a timer on his phone and went to join Loki on the couch. 

He dropped to the other end of the couch and Loki silently picked up the remote and changed the channel to _Dog Cops_. Clint sent him an amused glance. 

“I don’t like being manipulated, you know,” Clint said casually, and he smirked at the way the skin around Loki’s eyes tightened. 

“I am merely attempting to be a pleasant guest,” Loki bit out, trying to sound like he wasn’t annoyed. 

“First time for everything, huh?”

Loki’s mouth curled down in a frown. Clint grinned at him and then looked back at the TV. His good mood lasted through the rest of the night, even though he burned the pizza. Loki picked at the two pieces Clint had given him to eat and it was obvious he was using every ounce of energy to stop himself from complaining. It was great. 

The next morning, two weeks after Loki had shown up in his bathtub, Clint got another urgent Avengers alert. Loki was bleeding on his bedroom floor, eyes locked on the ceiling, hands over the cut Clint had just put in the main artery in his thigh. Clint threw him a towel and Loki shakily wrapped it around his leg. Clint felt a little bad and grabbed a belt and knelt next to Loki to wrap it around his leg.

Long, bloody fingers wrapped around his wrist and Clint blinked at them and then looked at Loki. Loki licked his lips and Clint watched the slide of his tongue and then shook his head. “What?” he asked sharply.

Loki dropped his head to the floor. “I don’t want to die,” he breathed out, digging his fingers into Clint’s arm. “Do not let him kill me.”

Clint nodded. “I’ll kill you instead,” he replied, and Loki rolled his eyes and let his arm go. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t die before I get back.”

Loki nodded, green eyes tracking Clint as he got dressed and brushed his teeth and then left, leaving the bedroom door open. Clint stood in the doorway and gave him an awkward goodbye, and then he left, whistling down the hallway. This time, there was a car waiting for him on the curb, and Clint shrugged and got in the backseat. 

“Avengers Tower, sir?” the driver asked, and Clint nodded.

“Thanks,” he said, and they smoothly pulled out into traffic. It was a quick drive to the tower, Clint reading through articles on torture ideas and always going back to the idea of the cardiac massage, and he was lost in a daydream about feeling Loki’s heart pulse in his palm when they finally pulled into Tony’s private parking garage. 

The driver opened the door for him and Clint awkwardly thanked him and then made his way over to the elevator, which opened for him. The trip up to the Avengers common floor was quick and Clint exited the elevator to see everyone lounging around in the main room, the TV playing some baseball game and Steve and Bucky were trying to explain the game to Thor, who looked completely baffled.

Nat pulled him out of the elevator and over to the bar, where she pushed a beer into his hand. “You just have to stay for an hour,” she muttered to him. “Maybe two.”

“I hate these things,” Clint complained quietly. “Who’s idea was it?”

“Steve’s,” she replied. “You know how he is about the team bonding thing.”

Clint _got it_, he really did. Before two weeks ago, he’d been all for team bonding. Hell, he even liked everyone on the team. Even Tony, sometimes. But he was busy and didn’t have patience for this. But he took a shot of whiskey and his beer and gave Nat a one-armed hug and then joined everyone on the couch.

“Baseball? You guys really watch this crap?” he teased, getting a goggle-eyed look from Steve, which had Bucky laughing and Thor giving Bucky a soft look. “Thor, don’t let them bring you into this cult. Let’s watch a real game.” He picked up the remote and frowned at it. “Hey, how do I get football on this thing?”

“Football?” Thor repeated. 

“Yeah,” Clint said, somehow managing to bring up the list of channels and finding the sports section. “A bunch of bulky dudes in real tight pants running all over a field, basically. It’s a lot better than baseball, which is probably the most boring sport besides golf.”

“Golf?” Thor asked, which sparked a debate on whether or not golf was a sport, with Tony being fully on the side that it was and everyone else disagreeing with him. Thor looked thoroughly amused, even if he was rather confused by all of it.

Tony ordered food for all of them and they all gathered around the table in the back of the common room, jostling each other around and arguing over sandwiches and if there was enough food for all of them and Clint rolled his eyes at all of them and grabbed an extra sandwich for Loki. 

Someone had turned the channel to one of those survive in the wilderness shows, and Clint watched with raised eyebrows at the host skinned a rabbit. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair as it gave him ideas about what to do to Loki once he got home, but he stopped moving once he noticed Natasha giving him a strange look. He pulled out his phone but then thought better of it. He didn’t need ‘can you skin a human’ in his search history.

He made his excuses after another hour, once everyone was quiet after eating, and was part way out of the door before calling back, “Any news on Loki?”

“No,” Sam told him. “Thor spent all of last week off-planet looking for him, and we released information to a few news outlets. Absolutely nothing from any of it. You heard anything?”

Clint shook his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Nope.” He chuckled self-deprecatingly. “I’ve barely left my apartment these past couple weeks. Keep worrying I’m going to see him in everyone I pass on the sidewalk.”

All the other Avengers exchanged concerned looks. “You still have a place here,” Tony offered up. “One floor down, half the floor is yours. If you want it.”

Clint thought about it, glanced at Nat, who gave him a look like she thought he should move in. He grimaced and nodded. “I’ll think about it,” he lied, and waved goodbye. “Let me know if there’s any news.”

The elevator doors opened and once they closed, JARVIS said, “I have called a car for you, Agent Barton. Sir tells me that you can request extra security around your apartment if you wish, and that he has a moving team on call if you wish to move into the tower.”

“Thanks, J,” Clint sighed. “I’ll let you know.”

“Of course, Agent Barton,” JARVIS said, and the elevator doors slid open, a car pulling up right outside. He could get used to this, Clint thought, sliding into the backseat. It was just the little matter of his houseguest.

The drive back to his apartment was longer and Clint considered eating Loki’s sandwich out of boredom but decided against it. The driver opened the door for him and Clint uncomfortably thanked him and then went inside his apartment building, waving to a few of the other tenants. He jogged up the stairs back to his apartment and unlocked the door, frowning when he closed it behind him and it was dark inside. The TV wasn’t even on.

“Loki?” he called lowly. “You still here?”

There was a soft moan from the bedroom and Clint was automatically walking towards it before he froze and reconsidered it and remembered who he was dealing with. He picked up his bow off the coffee table and a few arrows, and then ducked his head into his bedroom, flicking on the light.

Loki was laying on the floor, a pool of dried blood around him. Both of his hands were wrapped around his leg and he was staring up at the ceiling, his mouth moving soundlessly. Clint swore under his breath and moved over to him, dropping to his knees at Loki’s side.

“I thought you’d be healed by now,” he muttered, Loki’s head turning on his neck and fuzzy green eyes landing on him. “Or at least sitting up and getting pissed at me.”

“Did you tell them where I am?” Loki rasped.

Clint shook his head immediately. “I said I wouldn’t,” he muttered, slapping Loki’s hands away from his leg and gingerly peeling the drenched towel away. “If you want, I can call one of them right now.” Loki grimaced. “Why aren’t you healing?”

“I stopped it,” Loki grit out. “I did not wish to be alive when you brought Thor here.”

Clint rolled his eyes and pulled the sandwich out of his pocket. “Idiot. He’s worried about you, you know.” He dropped the sandwich to Loki’s chest and stood up, grimacing at the blood on his hands. “Heal up, you moron. I want to try the cardiac massage thing.”

“As you wish,” Loki muttered under his breath. Clint flipped him off and picked up his bow and arrows and went back into the living room, stripping down to his boxer briefs and dropping down to the couch, turning on the TV. It took four episodes of _Dog Cops_ for Loki to limp out of the bedroom and to get a glass of water and then to join Clint on the couch.

“Am I allowed to know what this procedure entails?” Loki asked, offering Clint the glass of water.

Clint shook his head at the glass and then shrugged, unlocking his phone and handing it over. Loki frowned down at it and picked it up in two fingers. “What is this device?”

“A phone,” Clint told him. “It’s basically a communication device that holds, like, all of the information in the world on it.” Loki’s eyes widened and he shot Clint a look that was far too unrestrained and excited for Clint to be able to resist it. “Fine,” he chuckled. “Play around on that and I’ll get you one. Don’t call or text anyone, though.”

Loki nodded and after Clint showed him the basics, became engrossed in the internet, spending the rest of the night curled up on the couch, eyes glued to the phone, toes tucked under Clint’s thigh. A few times, Clint found himself glancing over at him and smiling. Tomorrow. He’d hold Loki’s heart in his hand tomorrow.

* * *

Loki sprawled out on his back over the island in the kitchen, hands clasped over his stomach, eyes locked on the ceiling. He was wearing a pair of Clint’s boxer briefs, the dark purple contrasting with his pale skin, and nothing else. Clint had spread a towel out underneath him, and was over at the kitchen counter, sharpening his knives.

“There’s no way you still feel indebted to me,” Clint said apropos of nothing. “I know you don’t feel bad, and you could ward any building in the world and be safe. You could walk out the door and I wouldn’t do this.”

Loki didn’t say anything, but Clint glanced back to see a muscle in his cheek twitch. He shrugged and turned back to his knives. 

“Alright,” he said, picking his knives up and bringing them over to the island, dropping them on the counter. He picked up a small sharp blade and ran his thumb over the edge. “Don’t move.”

Clint slid his fingers over Loki’s ribs, counting them, and when he got to the right one, he pressed into it, bringing up the knife. He looked at Loki to see green eyes unerringly locked on him, Loki’s face otherwise expressionless. Clint smirked at him and sunk his knife into his side.

Loki whimpered, eyes still locked on Clint’s face. His mouth fell open and his tongue brushed along his lips. Clint dragged his gaze away and back down to the wound in Loki’s side, bleeding already, and he restrained the urge to put his mouth to it and suck.

He slid his fingers into the wound and pulled it open further, Loki giving out a grunt that sounded almost frantic, and Clint smiled, digging his fingers under Loki’s ribs. He cut the wound open further, a massive incision in Loki’s side, and pulled at Loki’s ribs until he heard a crack and Loki gasped and then whimpered in that same high-pitched tone that had heat pooling in Clint’s stomach.

Fuck. Focus. He had to focus. He was so close.

He broke Loki’s ribs further and managed to get his hand inside, and dropped the knife to slide his other hand in, holding Loki’s trembling lungs out of the way. Clint leaned closer and he could feel the way Loki’s body trembled underneath him, eyes locked on the blood soaking his hands and wrists and pooling into the towel beneath him. He held Loki’s lung out of the way and slid his hand in deeper, fingers brushing over something that was pulsing and _beating_ and Loki gasped.

Clint froze. He was so close.

He shifted his weight and realized his dick was hard, pressing into the side of the island. He glanced down at Loki’s groin and grunted at seeing a small bulge in Loki’s boxer briefs.

“Not sure how you’re hard,” Clint muttered, and Loki whimpered. “Half your blood is all over me.”

Loki didn’t say anything, eyes still on Clint’s face. Clint slid his arm in further, Loki’s broken ribs pinning him in place, and he stiffened, Loki’s heart resting in his fingers.

“You have my heart in your hand,” Loki whispered, faintly enough that Clint had to strain to hear him. “I am yours.”

At that, Clint yanked his hands out of Loki and pulled the god towards him, twisting him around so he was laying on his stomach, legs dangling over the side of the island. Clint ripped his underwear from him and slid his hand down between Loki’s cheeks, bloody fingers pushing at Loki’s hole. Loki gasped and pushed back into him, widening his hips, and Clint grunted, pushing past any resistance, and a minute later, he pulled his fingers out and pushed his pants down and slicked his hard cock with Loki’s blood.

When he pushed in, Loki screamed. Clint pressed in, feeling the grip and lack of give and relishing it, twisting one hand in Loki’s hair and pulling him back. He slid his other hand over the gaping wound on Loki’s side and slid his fingers inside him.

“Sir,” he whispered, and fucked in deeper, groaning as Loki finally loosened around him, welcoming him, pulling him in deeper. “Sir.”

“Harder,” Loki demanded breathlessly. “Faster.”

Clint yanked Loki’s hair and Loki whimpered again, gasping when Clint leaned forward to dig his teeth into Loki’s shoulder, hips moving slowly, cock sliding in and out. He covered his fingers in blood and dropped them down to cover his cock again, giving himself just enough lubrication to make it slightly more pleasurable than painful. Loki whined.

“Do that again,” Clint ordered, and Loki let out a high-pitched noise that had Clint’s hips thrusting wildly, out of his control. “Fuck,” he muttered, reaching around to squeeze Loki’s cock in his hand, crushing it. He fucked in deeper, pulling Loki back until he was pushing onto Clint’s dick, twisting his hips, Clint digging his nails into Loki’s cock, Loki whimpering, hips twitching.

“How did my heart feel?” Loki breathed out and Clint could hear a smile in his voice. “Did I scream the way you wanted?”

“I want you to scream again,” Clint muttered in his ear, biting at Loki’s neck. “I want you to scream until you run out of air.”

He finally found Loki’s prostate, the god letting out a punched gasp of air, and Clint hammered into it, dropping his hand from Loki’s hair to his waist, digging his fingers in so he could fuck him harder. He moved his hand down from Loki’s cock to his balls, squeezing them about half as hard as he was capable, and Loki screamed that time, exactly the way Clint needed him to.

His hips jerked one last time and he came for what felt like hours, orgasm filling him up with heat as his come filled up Loki. Loki gasped and Clint tightened his grasp around his balls, Loki’s hips twitching as he tried to come and wasn’t able to. Twitching with aftershocks, Clint pulled out of Loki and stepped away from him, watching as Loki crumpled to the floor, going to his knees, pressing his face to the side of the kitchen island. Loki gasped out a few breaths, one hand going to the wound in his side, the other to his cock.

Clint went over to the sink and ran the water, splashing it over his heated face and trying to scrub away the blood on his hands and arms and he looked down with a wince, all over his stomach and dick and thighs. Loki jerked himself off, coming with a high-pitched whimper, and Clint’s dick gave a half-hearted twitch. He took in a deep breath and splashed water over his face.

“Why do you keep making that noise?” he grit out.

Loki chuckled, low and deep. “I like what it does to you,” he said airily, and pushed to his feet, leaning heavily against the island. Clint glared at him over his shoulder and then pointedly took out his hearing aids, walking past Loki to his bedroom.

“Clean up after yourself!” Clint called back, hoping he wasn’t yelling too loud. “Don’t want any stains.”

He dropped his aids to the bedside table and stripped out of his stained underwear and his stained sweats and his stained socks and then went into the bathroom, turning the water as hot as he could stand and then ducking underneath the spray, closing his eyes and trying not to think about the best fucking sex he’d ever had. It was a lost cause, of course, but at least he was old enough that he didn’t get hard over it. Recovery period was a bit longer than a couple minutes.

He got most of the blood off and then turned off the shower, wrapping himself in one of the towels Loki had insisted was always hanging in the bathroom, and went back into the living room to see Loki lazily wiping a towel through the blood on the kitchen island, a bandage wrapped around his torso. Clint rolled his eyes and waved Loki to the couch, bringing him a sandwich and a glass of juice and a blanket, and then got to cleaning up the kitchen. He’d gotten surprisingly good at cleaning up god blood over these past few weeks.

Clint threw away a few of the washcloths that he knew couldn’t be salvaged and rinsed the other ones out in the sink under cold water, and then got his own glass of juice and joined Loki on the couch.

“I’ll get you a phone tomorrow,” Clint said out loud, taking the remote when Loki held it out to him. He made sure the subtitles were turned on and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and leaned his head back against the couch. Loki scooted closer to him and laid part of his blanket over Clint’s bare chest.

He fell asleep without realizing it and woke up a few hours later to see Loki curled up next to him, fingers clutching the edge of the blanket. Clint wondered what they’d look like without skin. He left Loki on the couch and dragged himself to bed, throwing the towel to the floor and sliding naked between the sheets. He stayed awake until Loki joined him in bed, one long-fingered hand sliding down to take Clint’s hand in his own.

In the dark, Clint pressed their palms together and closed his eyes.

* * *

Loki was setting up his new phone with one hand while Clint delicately pulled the skin off his fingers of the other. Clint hadn’t put in his hearing aids so he wasn’t hearing any of the noises Loki was making, but he could imagine them and that was almost worse. He’d managed to get an entire strip of skin from the back of Loki’s hand and was really trying to stop himself from eating it when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He dropped Loki’s hand and pulled his phone out, only to see a text from an unknown number. He unlocked the phone to read it.

_If you stop that, I’ll let you kiss me._

He dropped the knife from his hand, feeling his breath catch in his chest, and he sent back, _Let me?_

He looked over to Loki, watched a small smile flash over his face, and Clint pinned Loki back to the arm of the couch, sliding his hands over Loki’s jaw, cradling it in his hands. He slid up into Loki’s lap, intentionally kneeing the wound over Loki’s ribs, watching greedily as Loki’s pupils dilated and his mouth opened.

Loki kissed like it was something to be won or lost. He kissed like it was a game, a smile curling his lips, pushing his tongue against Clint’s, tilting his head back so Clint could plunder his mouth. He kissed like it was Clint’s job to please him, which had Clint shivering in his skin, digging his nails into Loki’s skin, lips sliding together. He could feel the noises Loki was making in the way his forearm was pressed across Loki’s throat, and he pushed in further to stop them, their chests moving together, Clint intimately feeling the way Loki couldn’t take in a breath. He shifted their groins together, Loki’s hips pulsing, and Clint pulled back, sliding one hand down Loki’s throat to squeeze it.

Loki’s head fell back, slit eyes watching Clint’s every move.

Clint leaned forward and nosed over Loki’s cheek, letting his breath ghost over Loki’s face, and then he dug his teeth in until blood pooled up and coated his mouth and slid down his throat. He groaned and dug his teeth deeper in until he could feel the way Loki’s own teeth grated against his own, and then he pulled back, shivering at the way the meat of Loki’s cheek clung to his teeth. He licked Loki’s blood from his lips and pulled back to look down to see Loki’s cock bulging out from his underwear, damp tip staining the fabric. Clint’s mouth fucking watered.

He disengaged his hands from Loki’s neck, feeling Loki bring in a deep gasping breath, and Clint slid down to his knees on the floor, picking up the knife to cut away Loki’s boxer briefs. 

“Your cock is fucking lovely,” he muttered, or hoped he did, and Clint raised an eyebrow at the way Loki’s hips pulsed at the compliment. “Summon my hearing aids. I want to hear you.”

Loki was frantically but gently pushing his aids into his ears just a few moments later. “Clint,” Loki whispered. “_Please_.”

“I aim to please, sir,” Clint said cheekily, and leaned down to take that lovely cock into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the wet tip and dug the tip of his knife into Loki’s stomach to keep him from moving. Loki’s dick was exactly the size Clint liked, just thick enough to feel like a mouthful and to feel like his mouth was being stretched, and long enough to slide down his throat and for him to gag on it. Fucking _perfect._

Clint nuzzled into the sparse hairs at the base of Loki’s dick and slid the knife down to press it to one of Loki’s balls, Clint reaching down with his free hand to palm his own dick. He pulled off, running his tongue along Loki’s length, feeling a spurt of pre-come on his tongue. He greedily swallowed it down and dug the tip of the knife into the delicate skin between Loki’s cock and balls, Loki’s hips twitching, small moans reaching Clint’s ears.

He increased the suction and hummed a bit, sliding back down Loki’s dick, and right as Loki came, whimpering in that same high-pitched tone that made Clint shudder and orgasm into his own hand, he cut one of Loki’s testicles and severed the vessels and the tubes and dropped the knife and reached his fingers in to pull his testis out. Loki whined as Clint pulled off his dick and slid the testis organ into his mouth, biting down and then swallowing it before he could taste anything.

He regretted it almost immediately and sat back, feeling winded, and he looked up to see Loki, covered in blood and the most beautiful thing he’d ever fucking seen.

Loki smiled down at him, reached out, brushed Clint’s hair off his face. “I suppose you’re not going to kill me,” he mused, voice hoarse.

“Naw,” Clint muttered weakly. “I’ll just keep carving off parts of you so that if anyone ever finds you, they won’t recognize you.”

Loki nodded. “A noble sacrifice on my part,” he decided, and Clint rolled his eyes. “Perhaps give me a week to heal.”

Clint nodded immediately, feeling a bit sick and a bit turned on at the thought that he had a part of Loki _inside him_. He pushed back up onto the couch, picking up the knife and tossing it onto the coffee table, and leaned against Loki’s side.

“What do you want for dinner?” Clint asked, picking up his phone. After a moment of deliberation, he made Loki’s contact name the snake emoji. He showed it to Loki, who made a surprised noise, and then demanded to be shown emojis, and then he sent about a hundred of them in texts to Clint, who rolled his eyes and ended up ordering them sub sandwiches. “How much blood can you afford to lose?”

“Far more than you have taken,” Loki replied, which had Clint thinking about jars and storing it and making Loki drink it.

They watched TV in comfortable silence, Clint getting up and rinsing himself off when his phone alerted him that the food was going to arrive soon, and he gave the delivery guy a hefty tip when he opened the door in just a pair of low-slung sweats, covered in hickeys and bite marks and dried blood. He got a Gatorade out of the fridge and then brought everything over to the couch, handing Loki a sandwich, the two of them sharing the Gatorade, Loki leaning into his side.

Clint ended up taking his hearing aids out a while later, full of food, and he curled against Loki’s side, eyes fluttering shut. He woke up a few hours later, Loki lifting him in his arms, taking him to bed. Clint thought he grumbled something about Loki being unfairly strong, but he wasn’t entirely sure it made it past his lips. He curled up against Loki in bed, long arms wrapping around his chest, Clint curling his face into Loki’s neck.

The next morning, Loki tried to make breakfast, the bite-mark on his cheek healing into a lurid scar, his half-empty ball sack hanging limply between his legs, the still-healing wound on his ribs open and showing bone. Clint leaned against the kitchen counter and watched Loki burn food. He got himself coffee and cradled the mug while he watched Loki.

“You think you need all your fingers?” Clint asked.

Loki shrugged one shoulder, sending him a warm, amused glance over his shoulder as he brought the burning pan over to the sink. “I need a few of them to use my phone,” he mused. “Perhaps you could start with toes?”

“Are you just going to let me take whatever I want from you?”

Loki abandoned the pan in the sink and turned off the stove, opening the fridge to peer into it. He decided to warm up old pizza and Clint shrugged, not really caring. “Nothing you do to me can compare to what Thanos will do once he finds me,” Loki said lowly. “So, no, I don’t particularly care.”

“Good practice?” Clint offered up with a teasing grin.

“Perhaps if you disfigure me enough, he will not even want me.”

“I’ll take that challenge.”

They shared similar grins.

* * *

Over the next few months, the two of them became more and more wrapped up in each other, Clint barely leaving the apartment except for groceries and for Avengers duties. The wound in Loki’s side never fully healed shut and Clint liked dipping his fingers in it, sliding the tips of his fingers over the exposed ribs, Loki arching up into his touch.

They curled together on the couch, Loki’s head in his lap, Clint petting his hair while he watched TV, Loki’s attention on his phone. 

“Is there anything else we should try?” Clint asked, brushing his fingers over the bite scar on Loki’s cheek. Loki hummed noncommittally. “Hey, you haven’t fucked me yet.”

That got Loki’s attention. He turned onto his back, looking up at Clint with narrowed green eyes. “I thought this was about you subjugating me,” Loki said thoughtfully.

Clint considered that. “I guess it started like that,” he began, “but we’re kind of in a weird relationship now. And I haven’t been fucked in like a year. I miss it. Your cock is fucking perfect and I want it inside me.”

Loki nodded and then looked back at his phone. Clint waited for a minute and then pulled Loki’s phone out of his hands. “I meant now.”

“Very well,” Loki drawled, sitting up. “If I must.” He took his phone back and then manhandled Clint so he was lying face-down on the couch, Loki’s long fingernails cutting a hole in his boxer briefs right over his hole. Clint shivered.

Loki’s fingers ghosted over his hole and then pressed in, Clint gasping at the pain of dry fingers stretching him, sharp fingernails cutting his insides, blood smoothing his way. Clint whimpered and pushed back up into his touch, spreading his knees and tipping his hips up so Loki could slide his fingers deeper inside. Loki slid a third finger inside, somehow this fingernail even sharper, pain shooting up Clint’s spine, and he whined.

“Fuck me,” Clint begged, trying to widen his thighs further, pushing his hips back again. Loki’s free hand pushed down on his back, pinning him in place.

A fourth finger teased at his hole and Clint gasped. Loki shifted his weight, heavy cock dragging over Clint’s thigh, and then Loki removed his hand and stuffed him full. Loki let out a high-pitched whine that had Clint clenching around him, groaning loudly. Both of Loki’s hands moved to pin Clint down and he couldn’t move at all, tightening his painful inner muscles around Loki’s cock, the god shallowly thrusting in and out of him, head of his cock rubbing relentlessly over Clint’s prostate.

“Fuck,” Clint gasped out. Loki’s fingernails dug into the meat of his sides, leaning forward and whimpering into Clint’s ear. "Oh God. It hurts," he whined.

“You’re so tight around me,” Loki murmured into his ear, right at the lowest decibel that his hearing aids could pick up. “You feel like a custom-made glove for my cock. Do you enjoy that, Clint? Do you enjoy being mine?”

“Yes,” Clint whimpered brokenly. “It’s all I ever wanted.”

“I know,” Loki murmured, hips twisting lazily, Clint letting out small gasps as Loki bottomed out. “I may have not intentionally made my way back to you, but I am glad I did.”

He’d been curious as to how Loki had ended up in his bathtub, but had never really gotten up the courage to ask. Warm pleasure swam through his limbs and Clint moaned as Loki thrust particularly deep and hard, cock dragging along his prostate, nails digging into him. “How did you—oh _fuck_. My bathtub? L-Loki,” he whined, Loki nosing along the back of his neck, mouth grazing over the delicate skin under his ear. “Please. Sir, please.”

“Good boy,” Loki murmured, and straightened up to quicken his pace, finally chasing his orgasm, looking down to see Clint’s blood streaking his cock as he thrust in and out, making a home for himself inside of Clint, carving out a place for himself. Loki shuddered through his orgasm, Clint’s insides soaking up his come, Clint hissing at the pain, coming himself just a moment later, grinding down into the couch cushions. “I fell,” Loki murmured into his ear.

Loki brushed a kiss over the back of his neck, pulling out of Clint and wiping his bloody cock on Clint’s back. 

“Why do you enjoy the sounds I make?” Loki asked as Clint staggered to his feet to get a damp washcloth from the kitchen, blood and semen sliding down his thighs. 

“Not sure,” Clint replied. “It’s just a kink.”

Loki hummed, opening his thighs so Clint could clean him, and then he motioned for Clint to turn around, taking the cloth in his hand and gently patting Clint clean. Clint laid back down, head in Loki’s lap, handing Loki his phone. 

Loki made a curious sound. “This is your phone.”

“Oh,” Clint muttered, turning the TV back on. “Code is 5654.”

Loki looked down at the numbers on the screen and frowned. It took him a minute of figuring out the letters to murmur out, “Your password is my name?”

“Sure,” Clint said softly. “Who’d guess it?”

Loki typed the code in and Clint’s phone unlocked, and then he thought about it and went into settings, adding his face to the faces that could unlock Clint’s phone. He tapped through the texts and read through Clint’s internet history and searched through his apps. 

“I’m hungry,” Clint grumbled out a few hours later. “Order something.”

“We should go on a date,” Loki said, giving Clint an amused look when the archer sat up and frowned at him. “Not now. Perhaps later.”

“Sure,” Clint said slowly, giving Loki a suspicious look. “Get Italian. I want pasta.” He sat up and kicked his feet onto the coffee table, leaning into Loki’s side. Loki leaned back, ordering a feast, and then he continued reading through Clint’s texts. “There’s nothing interesting in there,” Clint told him with a shrug.

“I find it interesting,” Loki remarked. “Did you know that Natasha texts you every three days? Every two days if you have not had a mission in over a week.”

“She thinks I’m depressed,” Clint sighed. “She thinks if she doesn’t check in on me, I’ll lay in bed all day.”

“You _do_ lay in bed all day,” Loki pointed out.

“I lay in bed all day because you lay in bed all day,” Clint retorted. Loki smirked at him.

“How very _adorable_,” Loki murmured, leaning over to brush a kiss over Clint’s forehead.

* * *

Loki still wanted a date, so Clint took him to a diner a few blocks away from his apartment that was poorly lit and had a history of discretion. Then he saw the annoyed look on Loki’s face and took him across the street to a nicer restaurant, where they slid into a booth, sitting across from each other. Loki picked up the menu with a look of distaste, then looked around at the rest of the customers with that same look of distaste. Clint watched him with a smile.

Loki looked back at him and that look faded into affection.

Clint’s eyes went wide.

Oh, shit.

They didn’t have anything to talk about that was publically appropriate, so Loki began weaving a story about his time on Asgard before he’d learned the truth, about a mission that he and Thor went on with Odin to Vanaheim, where one of their sorcerers kept insulting Thor under his breath whenever his brother was out of earshot, and Loki ended up battling him. They fought for a few days, Loki trying to pull the fight away from the palace, away from his brother. Then, of course, Thor tried to intercede and the sorcerer took his chance, throwing a violently dark spell at Thor, nearly severing him in half. Luckily, Eir had rushed to Vanaheim and had been able to save him, and Loki had used that same spell to severe the sorcerer’s head from his shoulders.

Clint set his chin on his palms and watched Loki talk, ignoring the fear broiling in his stomach at the fact that Loki cared for him, if not more, and let himself settle into the moment. They ordered food and Clint watched Loki eat, enjoyed the way he picked at his food, the way he pushed everything around with his fork, the way he dissected the food into tiny pieces and finally began to eat small bites when it was more mush than real food. 

Clint didn’t taste any of his food, eating enough to fill his stomach, and then he reached across the table to take Loki’s hand. He brushed his fingers over the scars on the back of Loki’s hand, over the scars on his knuckles, and warmth burnt in his chest.

Loki smiled at that, the scar on his cheek curling half of his smile into a sneer, and Clint just watched him.

“Do you remember when I said I’d never forgive you?” Clint said on a breath caught in his throat. Loki tilted his head at him curiously. “Well, I...I do. I forgive you.” Loki sent him a soft look at Clint smiled at him, ducking his head.

They left the restaurant a while later, hand in hand, Clint pulling Loki back to the apartment, leaning up to kiss him as they stepped into the elevator. Loki slid long fingers around Clint’s chin, tilted his chin up, pressed him back against the elevator wall, sliding his tongue into Clint’s mouth.

Of course, right as they got back to his apartment, Clint’s phone went off with an emergency Avenger’s alert.

He changed quickly, pulling on his tac pants and his Kevlar uniform shirt, digging his boots out of the pile of dirty clothes in his bedroom. He grabbed his bow from the coffee table and picked up his quiver from the floor. Loki was curled up on the couch.

Clint brushed a kiss over his cheek, then pressed a kiss to his mouth when Loki turned into his touch. “Should only be a few days,” Clint murmured against Loki’s mouth. “Don’t you worry about me.”

“I merely do not wish to starve to death in your pitiful home,” Loki replied back, keeping his voice soft and tender. He smiled slightly. “Come back to me.”

“Of course,” Clint replied, pressed another kiss to Loki’s mouth. “I’ll keep my phone on me. Don’t call. Texts only.”

Loki nodded. “Of course.” He waited until Clint turned away to whisper a prayer, “Unharmed go forth, unharmed return, unharmed safe back home.”

Clint gave him a jaunty wave and a saucy wink and then left Loki alone.

* * *

* * *

“Loki?” Thor repeated, turning around to look around the room. “James,” he said to Bucky, who looked up at him. “I would ask you to leave. Whatever this is, it is between my brother and I.”

Bucky faltered and then nodded, leaving the room, telling JARVIS to call Steve the second the door was shut behind him.

A shadow detached from the wall and molded into Loki. Thor gasped at seeing him. He looked like he’d been attacked by a bilgesnipe. “Who did this to you?” Thor demanded, moving closer, catching Loki’s neck in his hand. He looked at the circular scar on Loki’s cheek, frowned at the way it looked like teeth marks. “Brother, where have you been? I looked—I looked _everywhere_.”

“I know,” Loki said softly, looking past Thor to Clint, still unconscious in bed. “I was with him.”

“Did he hurt you? Did Clint—”

“I asked him to,” Loki interrupted, moving out of Thor’s grasp, clenching his jaw. “I wanted it.”

“Why?” Thor rasped out, blinking away the tears that filled his eyes. “You owe him nothing, brother. You were under influence of the Mind Stone.”

Loki cut him a dark glance. “Yes,” he said slowly. “But I still harmed him.”

“So he mutilated you?”

Loki shrugged one shoulder and moved around Thor to pet Clint’s hair with his fingers. “I care for him,” Loki said gently. “I have no intentions of leaving him.”

“Brother,” Thor whispered. “Do you love him?”

“If one such as I am is capable of love, then yes.”

Thor nodded and swallowed, reached out for his brother and then dropped his hand before it could touch him. “If you love him,” Thor said slowly, “then I will say nothing.”

“You always were so easy,” Loki remarked amusedly, turning around to give Thor a grateful look. “When he wakes, perhaps you and your...paramour could visit.”

Thor nodded and reached for him, holding his brother close for the few precious moments that Loki would let him, and then he stepped back when Loki stiffened.

“Loki?” Clint asked in a whine, eyes slitting open.

Thor watched the way his brother turned to the archer, watched the way his scarred fingers brushed over Clint’s face, watched as Loki pressed Clint’s hearing aids into his ears, watched the gentle way Loki fed Clint ice chips. He silently opened the door and then slid out of the room, shaking his head when Bucky looked up at him. Thor would give them a few minutes together before he let anyone in. 

He’d always been soft when it came to his brother. He’d always believed Loki deserved someone to be soft towards him. Going by the way Clint had looked up at him, even with the scars he’d left on Loki, Thor truly hoped his brother had found that softness.

Thor pressed a kiss to Bucky’s cheek and smiled at him. “Would you like to go to Clint’s house for dinner soon?”

“Sure,” Bucky said slowly. “Double date?”

Thor nodded. “You’ll like him,” he promised. “Some people don’t. But I do.”

Bucky gave him a slow, assessing look, then slid his metal hand into Thor’s hand, and nodded. “That’s good enough for me.”

**Author's Note:**

> please leave comments and kudos! thank you for reading!!
> 
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